


Eight Pieces of Home

by claquesous



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claquesous/pseuds/claquesous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feuilly is left behind when all the Amis go home to their families for Christmas. He misses them more than he'd like to admit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eight Pieces of Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darthfar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthfar/gifts).



Feuilly opened the door with a yawn. Combeferre knew his day had ended mercifully early and had hung around long enough to catch him before he left.

“I just came to say goodbye properly,” Combeferre said, smiling a little.

Feuilly’s face positively lit up with the small smile that he got when he was pleasantly surprised, usually by the thoroughness of his friends’ affection. Combeferre broke into a grin.

“I hate to leave you here all alone, but you take better care of yourself than any of us could manage.” Combeferre shrugged, a bit of awe not very well concealed in his voice. “You’ll do just fine with or without us.”

Feuilly grinned affectionately. “That’s bullshit. I’d be lost without you. But I can get by for three weeks.”

“Joly and Bossuet are only an hour away. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind having you for dinner sometime,” Combeferre offered.

Feuilly nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sure.”

They looked at their feet. They weren’t the most touchy-feely people, emotionally or physically, but after a moment of silence, Combeferre said quietly, “We’ll miss you.” Feuilly’s shoulders relaxed and he offered his hand, then felt stupid, withdrew it and pulled Combeferre into a hug.

“I’ll miss you too.” He held on a little too long. How could he not miss them? Les Amis were taking Feuilly’s home with them in eight different pieces.

They let go and parted ways, Feuilly watching Combeferre’s aunt drive him off until he remembered his heating bill and shut the door with a curse.

* * *

It was rough having all his friends leave all at once, but in different ways than he expected. Feuilly didn’t have a whole damn lot of free time to miss them with, since he was saving his Christmas time off for when they got back. But without the meetings each week to look forward to, things were even more monotonous at work, and his boss even asked him once or twice whether things were going alright at home. He just smiled tiredly and nodded.

What he found himself missing the most were Enjolras’s fond shoulder squeezes, Grantaire’s boisterous claps on the back, Bahorel’s good-natured punches to the bicep, Combeferre’s short-lived but unexpectedly tight occasional hugs. Feuilly’s childhood had not involved much positive physical contact, and he’d grown to loathe the feeling of nothing between him and another human being. But his friends, his first real family, had changed all that. Prouvaire had kissed his cheek enough, Bossuet had tripped into him and patted his arm in apology enough, Joly had felt his forehead enough, Courfeyrac had given him enough warm don’t-let-go-until-you’re-absolutely-sure-you’re-done hugs that he’d come to expect the warmth of a loved friend on a fairly regular basis.

Joly and Bossuet invited him over for dinner on Christmas Eve, along with a handful of their old friends from home, and Feuilly enjoyed their company, but it was hard to relax around so many strangers who all seemed to know each other. Joly smiled in understanding and apology when he left early with the valid excuse of an hour-long drive home.

Christmas day came and went, largely unnoticed by Feuilly, since he was counting down to the mass return of his friends for their spring semester. He came home early from work, made himself a boring dinner, and went to bed early. His bed was piled with blankets and both the pillows he possessed, but they didn’t feel like family.

Grantaire was the first to return, on the Friday before classes resumed. He came by Feuilly’s on the way to his dorm and made sure he’d be at the Musain with him, Bahorel, Prouvaire, Bossuet, and Joly the next day for lunch. And dinner, Feuilly suspected. They’d missed each other just as much as Feuilly had missed them.

It was so good to have them back. So good. That afternoon was as much as Feuilly had spoken in three weeks, and there was more substance to him in that four hours than there had been the entire Christmas “break” before. Feuilly’s face relaxed into a smile the minute he walked in the door and was hurting from the same smile by the time he left.

But Feuilly found the best part of the eight part reunion, in a way, was when Combeferre finally returned, Enjolras and Courfeyrac in tow. Courfeyrac pushed past Combeferre to engulf him in one of those overly thorough hugs that had bothered Feuilly so much when they’d first met, but now it just felt like home. Feuilly hugged him back fiercely and kind of… forgot to let go until Courf giggled. Combeferre patted him on the shoulder and grinned at him, and Feuilly could tell he knew exactly how he felt. He let go of Courf, who squeezed him one last time and stepped back. He let them into his scrawny little house and was about to offer them lunch until he saw the Wendy’s bags in Enjolras’s hands.

“You are the actual best,” he sighed, his stomach growling at the mere sight.

Enjolras smiled triumphantly. “I thought it’d be a welcome sight.” _They_ were welcoming _him_ home, Feuilly thought, and had to steer his thoughts in another direction.

Courfeyrac steered him to the couch in front of the TV that was deeper than it was wide, sat him down in the middle of it, and proceeded to serve him the most glorious fast food he’d ever eaten. Combeferre and Enjolras squeezed between him and the armrests, and Feuilly’s entire body relaxed. He thought he had realized just how much he’d missed the casual warmth of his friends until Enjolras had a long arm swung behind him and Courfeyrac’s feet were slung across his lap, his feet jammed under Enjolras’s legs to keep warm.

“I missed you guys a lot,” Feuilly confessed, his stomach (and heart but that’s too corny) pleasantly full to bursting.

Courfeyrac made a hasty 180 degree rotation to lay his head on Feuilly’s shoulder. “We missed you.” Feuilly grinned and ruffled Courfeyrac’s hair, relishing the freedom to touch.

Courfeyrac laughed. “You need a cuddle buddy if this is what happens when we’re not here. I’d volunteer, but I’m already overcommitted.”

“He’s ours,” Enjolras clarified with a hilariously serious face.

“We can share,” Combeferre laughed.

Feuilly smiled wider, too happy even to be embarrassed. Two years ago he would have been claustrophobic to the point of panicking, with no less than three people thoroughly invading his personal space. Now he just wanted them closer, if anything. He told them this, and they were all still grinning when they started bemoaning the need to move back in before dark.

Courf gave him another indefinite hug and Enjolras’s hand lingered on his shoulder. Combeferre loitered on the porch, and waved good-naturedly at the two in the car when Courfeyrac honked at him, turning to smile at Feuilly. “You mean so much to all of us, you know.”

Feuilly gave a small, content smile. “You mean more to me,” he assured his friend.

Combeferre rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. “You’re also a total badass. When you leave meetings they turn into the Feuilly Fan Club. We sit around and gossip about how awesome you are. How much you’ve been able to accomplish with zero help. How much shit you’ve had to go through alone.” His tone had grown more serious until the end, when there was nothing left but sincerity. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Feuilly didn’t have anything to say, but he certainly wasn’t going to _cry_ so he had to say something. “Damn it all, friends don’t make friends cry,” he muttered, and gave Combeferre a too-serious hug.

“Yeah they do,” Combeferre murmured. Feuilly could hear his smile.

 


End file.
